4. The Maid
Emily stepped out into the corridor separating the inner quarters as she headed to the first floor. Walking toward the servants' back stairs, she ran into her mother emerging from the guest room side.
Marie was carrying a huge bundle of bedsheets, scowling at one frayed edge. When she looked up and spotted Emily, her face lit up with a warm smile as she approached.
“Emily. Are you settling into your maid duties okay? It hasn't been too hard on you?”
“Yes, Mother. Lady Olivier treats me kindly.”
Marie beamed, relief washing over her. “Your father fretted endlessly after sending you here. I'm so glad you're faring well. You even look healthier. But...”
Marie trailed off, flicking her gaze toward the corner of the bedsheet pile she'd been eyeing from afar.
She narrowed her eyes, staring intently at one spot on the fabric.
Sensing her curiosity, Emily asked, “Mother, what's wrong?”
“...This.”
Marie set the bundle down on the floor and lifted the corner, spreading it across her palm. “See this stain?”
On the white sheet, a dark brown blotch stood out, roughly half the size of an adult's palm.
Emily nodded. “Yes, I see it. It's filthy.”
“Isn't it? Goodness. It first appeared a few days ago. I figured it got soiled in the laundry room, so I swapped it for fresh sheets, but here it is again.”
Marie handled the cleaning and tidying of the second-floor guest rooms.
Emily stared at the stain, lost in thought. From the guest room? But there haven't been any guests.
As far as she knew, the Loren count family visiting tomorrow would be the first since the supervisor's arrival.
Emily tilted her head. “Where could it have come from?”
Marie pondered for a long moment, counting silently to herself. Then she pointed down the corridor to the very last guest room. “See that room at the end? It's the one right next to it. The window doesn't even open, no leaks from the ceiling, and this is already the second time. Sarah specifically warned me to keep the rooms spotless—important guests are coming tomorrow, after all. But...”
Trailing off, Marie blinked at Emily with a puzzled look. “Listen to me ramble. What about the lady? Were you running an errand for her?”
“No. Lotte sent me down to help on the first floor—it's busy today.”
“Oh, what perfect timing.”
Marie's face brightened at Emily's reply. She told her to wait a moment, then headed to the storage nook by the servants' stairs. She returned with a neatly folded white bedsheet and handed it to Emily.
“Emily, I need to go wash these now, so could you handle changing the bedding in that room? You're heading down anyway, right?”
“Yes,” Emily replied curtly, cradling the fresh bundle in her arms.
“Thank you, Emily. My girl's such a dutiful daughter.”
Marie scooped up the stained, crumpled sheets with a lightened heart and descended the stairs to the first floor.
Emily gazed at the empty stairs where her mother had vanished, then slowly made her way to the end of the guest corridor.
The corner room at the far end felt somehow dim and secluded, but the adjacent one looked perfectly fine. With the doors always left ajar for cleaning and maintenance, she turned the knob smoothly and stepped inside.
A bare guest room greeted her: an empty bed frame with nothing but a lone pillow on the mattress.
Emily shrugged her shoulders and unfurled the clean bedsheet with a flourish.
Sheet changes were routine—she'd helped her mother with them countless times before becoming Olivier's maid. No trouble doing it alone.
She spread the pristine white fabric generously over the bed, tugging it taut into every crevice of the mattress until not a single wrinkle remained.
Catching her breath after the task, Emily slowly scanned the room.
Just as her mother said, no water stains on the ceiling, and the window was securely locked. Nothing around that could have caused a stain.
The room was utterly ordinary. Like her own maid's quarters in the inner wing, it held only sparse furnishings: the bed, a wardrobe, a table, and a single chair. That was it.
Looking around more carefully, Emily spotted the difference from the servants' rooms. Framed landscape paintings hung on both walls.
Unlike the staff quarters, this was for guests, so they'd put some thought into the decor. It softened the stark, rigid feel.
Satisfied with her inspection, Emily closed the door behind her and headed out.
Now it was time to go down to the first floor and help Sarah.
Sarah had always looked out for her, even sharing candies during tough times—Emily owed her some gratitude.
With light steps, she descended the stairs.
The supervisor's residence, usually bustling only with servants and the baron family, hosted a splendid banquet tonight thanks to the Loren count family's visit.
The long, wide dining table was draped in a white rose-patterned cloth with lavish folds, topped by elegant lace runners stretching its length. The floral centerpieces seemed to have received special attention from the baroness herself—vibrant, harmonious, and meticulously arranged. The dishes prepared especially for the count couple were, needless to say, impeccably presented and abundant.
This was undoubtedly a fitting welcome for esteemed guests.
Emily gazed at Olivier, beaming radiantly at the table's center. Seeing her lady's flawless poise filled her with a swell of pride, as if all their efforts had been rewarded.
Olivier had spent the morning under Emily's careful ministrations, adorning herself with flowers and preparing her greetings for the count couple. When the Loren family arrived, she had gone to the entrance with her family, smiling brightly to welcome them.
Her light green dress beautifully accentuated her newly blossoming, mature figure, while the green emerald necklace from the baroness yesterday gleamed brilliantly against her white neck.
Emily, who had toiled all morning, stood demurely behind the fresh, lily-like Olivier—radiant in her purity—bowing politely alongside the other servants to greet the Loren guests.
The Loren count family were an ancient noble house from Ashton. Today, the count and countess had arrived in Exangciras accompanied by their retainers, with the express purpose of touring the Scren Mine.
The count had recently taken an interest in mining and wished to consult with Mercier, the veteran of the industry here in the western continent. But due to weather delays past the original date—and Mercier's own schedule—the count could only meet him today. A few days prior, Mercier had departed north with his business partners.
In his stead, Belpharos Baron, the on-site supervisor and de facto manager of the mine, handled the hosting duties.
As a new maid, Emily had witnessed a fascinating scene from the moment the Loren couple alighted from their carriage.
The guests were clearly the count and countess, yet the Belpharos family stood silently outside the carriage, not uttering a word until the visitors greeted them first.
Only then did the baroness draw back her shoulders, bend one knee, and spread her dress in a graceful, elaborate curtsy. The lovely, flower-like Olivier followed her mother's lead, executing the intricate noble courtesy with perfect form.
Emily had never seen such formal noble protocol—far beyond the casual bows the maids gave the baroness—and watched with rapt attention.
The stern-looking Loren count, his hair streaked with gray, was then escorted by Belpharos Baron to the drawing room, with everyone following quietly behind.
Even there, the guests took the seats of honor first. Only after the countess nodded permission to the hovering baron family did they cautiously sit.
Excluding the perpetually traveling Mercier, owner of the Scren Mine, the Belpharos were the only nobles in Exangciras. Yet here they were, acting with extreme deference toward their visitors—watching every move like commoners before nobility.
Emily realized anew the vast chasms within noble society itself.
The Belpharos spoke to the Loren couple in utmost deference, their speech and manners impeccably restrained.
After a rigidly formal tea, the count departed with Belpharos Baron and his son Olens to inspect the Scren Mine.
The countess remained in the drawing room, graciously hosted by Olivier and the baroness. Lotte and Emily attended them quietly as light conversation and laughter bloomed among the nobles.
As dinner time arrived, the maids' roles shifted.
Lotte, who usually served the baroness, now attended the countess.
Emily always stayed by Olivier's side for meals, leaving the baroness without her usual maid.
Someone needs to serve her, Emily thought, scanning the room anxiously. But who?
Just then, as a male footman carried in the appetizers, an unfamiliar woman in a brown maid's dress trailed into the dining hall behind him.
Emily had lived and worked in the supervisor's residence long enough to swear she'd never seen this face before.
She observed the woman discreetly.
The slender figure had a pale, makeup-free face. A single alluring beauty mark at the corner of her lips lent her sickly pallor a strangely seductive charm.
She entered the hall with an odd gait—back straight, hips thrust slightly rearward—and took up position behind the baroness to assist with the meal.
Noticing Olivier's glass was empty, Emily hurried over to refill it, leaning in to whisper with a glance, “Who is she?”
Olivier, who had been listening attentively to the countess's tale, smiled in response before murmuring swiftly through her teeth, “...Ellie.”
Ellie? An unfamiliar name. And a maid's uniform? Sarah had said there were only two maids in the Belpharos household.
As Emily watched the woman—Ellie—serve the baroness with familiar ease, her curiosity only grew.